


That Inquisitor, Smitten

by PinkAfroPuffs



Series: The Scorching Inquisitor (Side B) [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Helpful Cole (Dragon Age), M/M, Tsundere antics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 15:10:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20659247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkAfroPuffs/pseuds/PinkAfroPuffs
Summary: It's tough to be clear about your intentions and not be a fool about them. Especially when the man of your interest is not concerned with more than a fling- or so the Inquisitor thinks, erroneously.A secondary "route" followingThe Inquisitor, Burning.





	That Inquisitor, Smitten

**Author's Note:**

> This was the original "route" before I decided it was my city and realized Mamoru also wanted a chance at Josephine. Warning, though, this one gets pretty sad.

There was no real secret behind calling him the ‘scorching’ Inquisitor; Mamoru Lavellan, 35, was not only adept in fire and flame magic, but gave off a very powerful and somewhat aggressive persona as head of the Inquisition. At least, this why he _ thought _ they said such things about him.

In reality, it was nothing of the sort. Instead, it was that, with his sharp eyes and youthful, handsome face, that Inquisitor Lavellan was a _ catch. _

It was no surprise, really. Despite being an elf, there was something endearing about him- at least, that was what they said. He had a charming way about him- maybe it was his voice, (that Dalish lilt was appealing, after all, how _ exotic _) or the soft, beautiful texture of his wavy white hair. Maybe it was his mannerisms; general he may be, but rumor had it that he was unspeakably kind and good to children. Too good to be true, really. In fact, if it had any bearing, the Inquisitor thought, he might not be single.

But he was. 

He pressed the flat back of the book he was reading to his lips, lingering like that before he closed his eyes. The Chantry sisters were talking about him again. People who knew him by his face were so bothersome. At this point it was nigh impossible to read in peace. 

He counted his blessings. At least with all these rumors going around, they didn’t know why he was so actively single, not that other people knowing would bother him much (or so he convinced himself). With a little sigh, he said, “Are you ladies done? It’s a library, kindly take your gossip elsewhere.”

In truth, the man was a romantic. That was probably why he’d made it so hard for himself to pair off, really. It was a damn shame that the object of his affections- his silly, silly affections- was none other than The Iron “Casual Sex” Bull.

Mamoru bit back a groan. Leave it to him to be interested in a man’s man. He’d heard about others’ encounters with Iron Bull, and though it made him feel a little...left out, more than anything it made him feel uneasy. The Qunari wasn’t too picky- much like Mamoru himself- but he knew that usually he wasn’t other men’s types, and though he’d been showing he was interested in the past few weeks, he’d gotten _ nothing _ from Iron Bull in response. He’d brushed off every advance, played dumb when Mamoru had tried, and worse still, didn’t even _ flinch _ when he mentioned that workplace relationships weren’t a dealbreaker for him.

Maybe he just wasn’t Bull’s type. He was soft faced and pretty; handsome to women, but too feminine for other men. He cursed his genes as he walked up another floor in the library, passing a mirror in the hall to catch a glimpse of his fair complexion. Why did the universe decide to make him so soft-looking and delicate? Was this a _joke_ to them? What did he have to do, get _more_ scars? Lose an eye? 

“Dread Wolf be cursed,” he swore softly, fingering the three tiny scratches against his right cheek, his only _ real _ battle wounds, and climbed further. 

Frustrated, he found another place to sit, book in hand as he plopped down heavily on another chair, feet up on the windowsill beside him, sour as the day he’d been told he was The Herald. It felt really shitty to think that the Iron Bull had basically slept with everyone _ except _ him- though at the same time, he felt glad for it. He knew he wouldn’t be able to settle for that. Mamoru was greedy like that. He would never say it aloud, but the concept of marriage and true love was alluring to him. 

_ True love! With the Iron Bull! _ He scowled at his own foolishness.

“What on _ earth _ could you be thinking about to make you look like _ that _, Inquisitor?” Dorian Pavus, of whom he had a tenuous friendship with, lazily leaned upon the bookshelf near him, a stack of books sitting at his own feet. He was far enough not to impose; close, still, he stood in Mamoru’s light, trying very hard to be friendly after their last fight- or disagreement, as Dorian liked to call it. But Dorian took many things lightly. Mamoru did not.

Mamoru opened exactly one eye to glare at him, irritated. “Murder.”

“Oh, well then, don’t let me stop you.” He held his hands up, obviously hoping he wasn’t looking to murder _ him _, and started backing away.

A sudden thought came to him (startling as it was) and he took a very deep breath, considering Dorian’s own situation and his similar one. “Wait,” Mamoru pursed his lips, hoping he wouldn’t regret asking, “do you….know anything about gettin’ a guy t’ notice you?”

Dorian’s eyes lit up in a way that Mamoru had never seen them do before; absolutely delighted, he grabbed one of the books off of the bookshelf above the Inquisitor’s head and flipped to a particular chapter. “I do, actually.”

His eyebrows went up. Dorian liked to help, but only in subjects he was actually good at- namely, magic and himself- and often he would try to deliver advice on things he knew nothing about. He wasn't sure which this was. “Are you datin’ anyone?”

“No,” Dorian smiled, smacking the book down triumphantly, “but that has no bearing on this discussion, whatsoever.”

“...how can you give me advice on somethin’ you're not even doin’ yourself?” Mamoru raised an eyebrow at him. 

“My dear Inquisitor, coaches don’t play,” he shrugged, and Mamoru begrudgingly admitted that was fair. “Now, first I _ have _ to ask. Have you actually _ talked _ to this person?”

He snorted. “How old do you think I am?”

“Answer the question, Inquisitor,” he smiled.

“Yes. I most definitely have. I’ve spoken to him quite a lot, actually. And even flirted some!” He touched the spine of his book to his forehead and closed his eyes again. “I just….want t’ know if maybe I can get him to notice me or….! I dunno! Tell me off! Somethin’!” 

It was here that Dorian’s smug expression spread into a more knowing, thoughtful one; nodding very slowly, he held up his hand. “Ah, I see. You want to know if it’s _ reciprocal _.” He rubbed his chin, obviously ignoring how Mamoru was rolling his eyes. “Have you been clear with him?”

He wanted to snap at him, but stopped, suddenly frozen. “I-” Had he been clear? He crossed his arms over his chest, considering it. What _ exactly _ had he said? Between all of the fighting, the dragons, and….the Fade. “...I don’t know.” He found himself saying, and in the pit of his stomach, something felt sour. They were friends, to be sure, but lovers-

The Inquisitor put both of his hands on his face and groaned. “Dread wolf guides me-” He hissed in elven, which was to say, he was an idiot. 

“What? What’s wrong?” Dorian seemed a little startled at his outburst (and amused, all the same), but when Mamoru put down his book and started down the stairs, he called out, “Wait! Where are you going?”

“Thank you! I’m less angry with you!” He replied, leaving Dorian with a stack of unused books and the Inquisitor’s own, left sitting in his chair.

“Well. That went a lot better than expected.” Curious, he glanced at the book left behind. “I wonder what he was up to-”

“DON’T touch me book,” he shouted, and Dorian reared back.

“Alright, alright,” he muttered glad he’d finally been let out of the doghouse and wasn’t prepared to walk right back into it over something so inconsequential. They didn’t call the man the ‘scorching’ Inquisitor for nothing, after all.

* * *

“Listen, when you feint to the left, you have to _ actually _, you know, shoot right,” Bull was telling Sera, who was sitting on the floor in front of him, cross legged. “You can’t just shout ‘bees’ and hope it’ll go well. It ruins the surprise when actually throwing the bees, I mean.”

“Yeah, yeah. Y’say that like I’ve ever wasted a good jar of bees in my life,” Sera snorted, which was obviously true. They wouldn’t even have thought of the concept if she wasn’t around. “B'sides, only an idiot wouldn't run at the sound of ‘bees’!”

“Good point.” Bull conceded. This was when Mamoru stomped in, surprising them both with the sound of his footsteps, and then his voice.

“Iron Bull,” he sounded calm but somewhat loud, “I need t’ talk to you.” Then he noticed Sera sitting on the floor. “....alone. Please.”

Sera leaned back and rolled her eyes a little bit. “What’re you gonna do if I don’t go?”

“I’ll ask Andruil t’ bless your bow again,” he half-threatened, and she hurried to move. 

“Alright, alright, whatever then!” She ran out of the tavern in quite a hurry for someone who was going to get blessed. Mamoru could only shake his head in her direction.

“What can I do for you, boss?” He smiled his lazy smile at the Inquisitor, which only made Mamoru want to begin yelling at him in elvish for the handsome assault on his senses. Not that it would make any sense to Bull.

“I….” He hoped very much that he wasn’t getting red from thinking about it, since it was a very _ simple _ thing to be upfront about his feelings, and he was a grown man, not a little boy, but somehow, in the face of Bull himself, he went mute.

Bull kind of raised an eyebrow at him, wondering if he’d ever speak. “Yeah?”

“I was hopin’ you’d come along with me tomorrow to fight a dragon!” He almost squeaked, but his voice, fortunately, came out normally as he fixed his coat. “That’s all.”

He was obviously not buying this. “Uh-huh.”

“That’s all!” He affirmed. “And…!” _ Creators, where is my tongue? _

Another interested look, expectant.

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” Then he left, hopefully with some of his dignity in tact.

Bull had to hold back a laugh. Lifting his drink to his lips, he let out a low, “Always a pleasure, boss,” and Mamoru, who was still in earshot, felt his stupid ears burning again.

* * *

“When did I become such a child?” 

He was on his third cask of wine, forehead pressed to his desk as he mumbled to himself. After thinking very long and hard about it, he was sure he was the biggest fool from here to the Dales, and he would go down in history as The Man Who Had A Crush instead of The Adult Who Ate Confrontation For Breakfast (which, he hoped, as Inquisitor, he had as a reputation, given he’d never backed down from a fight). “It’s not like I’ve never _ dated _ before, or….or…!” His head lolled on the desk. “I feel so useless. Like I’m fourteen instead of thirty-two. What do you think I should do?” He slurred up at his guest.

Seeker Pentaghast crossed her arms over her chest, staring at him with disdain. Really, he had to be _ impossibly _ drunk to be asking her for her opinion on this, what with their opposing views on the Chantry and Cassandra’s unwillingness to be polite about that fact. “Why am I here, Inquisitor?” They weren’t even friends. Frankly, this was really harshing her vibe. 

“B’coz you tell me the truth, even when I hate it,” he slurred. 

She sighed very heavily. “If you aren’t going to tell him yourself, you should get someone else to. And before you ask, _ no _, I won’t.”

“Who could I get t’ do that? Maybe someone t’ read my mind or air out all of my business, but not in a way that’s gonna embarrass me too much, like I put’em up to it…”

The Seeker lifted an eyebrow to him. “You mean-”

“Cole!” They both shouted in unison, and immediately, they knew the conversation was over.

* * *

He’d forgotten all about his drunken ramblings by lunch, and the next morning, while running through the damned Hinterlands for some unfinished business, Mamoru found himself stopped at a herbalist to get the agreed upon ingredients for a rock armor potion he was making.

Varric and Bull were talking about horn balm in the back, which reminded him of something while he checked the expiration date on back of the warmth balm he was holding. “OH! Bull, you reminded me. I remember you talkin’ about it before, and I found you some of that.”

“Yeah?” The way his eye lit up made Mamoru positively delighted as he rummaged through his pocket and retrieved the little container and waved it around. He’d been thinking of him when he’d ordered it- and _ boy _ had it been hard to find- but after Varric’s tidbit about finding a lot of it in Kirkwall, he’d asked Leliana to look into it. He grinned as he placed it in The Iron Bull’s outstretched hand, savoring the, “Thanks, boss,” that came when he did. 

“Slayer of dragons, stealer of hearts, why won’t he _ notice _ me,” when the words struck Mamoru’s eardrums he went pale, “I would pay for his smile, funny, charming, strong-armed, Iron Bull, in my corner, in the tavern, in my room, against my senses. Why do my words not reach him? The gods have cursed me, all soft edges, gooey, melting at his words, no tongue in my head, no hole to hide in.” Cole finished, watching them both intently. 

He restrained himself from pulling away from Bull immediately; now sober, the plan he’d considered the night before with the Seeker came rushing back to him as the Stupidest, most Horrible thing he’d even thought of, its territory bordering on nightmarish. 

Bull sort of coughed. “Uh. Boss?” Varric looked a whole lot like he was holding his breath to keep from laughing, but Mamoru ignored it. Intensely.

The Inquisitor closed his eyes and nodded very slowly, completely numb. “I see.” He patted the jar of horn balm in The Iron Bull’s hand and turned to Cole. “Thank you, Cole. I didn’t even notice you were there.”

“You’re welcome,” said Cole, big eyes blinking at him.

“I am _ so _ welcome,” Mamoru nodded, closing his eyes, “that I think. We’re done for today. I’ll see you all back at camp.” He walked very briskly to the closest cave he could find, levitated the rocks around it, and sealed himself in it.

* * *

“Bull?”

In the tavern the next day, after finally coaxing the Inquisitor out of his prison, sat The Iron Bull, enjoying himself, for the most part, with a couple of drinks. After deciding to keep what he’d learned a secret (along with Varric, who was surprisingly good at keeping secrets when he wanted to be), he hadn’t even expected to see the Inquisitor for the next few days, and yet, there he was.

Mamoru stood before him at his full height of 5’10, expression guarded and his ears their normal color. His arms were crossed over his chest and his eyes were closed as he wet his lips to prepare to say something.

“Yeah, boss?”

Audibly, he took a deep breath. “I….about yesterday-”

He waved his hand. “Don’t worry about it. Kid’s got a knack for having terrible timing.”

The Inquisitor screwed up his mouth again. “No,” he said, “I didn’t come for that. I came to ask if you wanted to hop on it or? Or what?”

He wished he was surprised, but he wasn’t. Actually, he was delighted. “Hop on what?”

Mamoru, who was having none of his teasing, said, “On _ me _.”

The tankard was hiding his laughter. “I’ll think about it.” He didn't really need to, though. It was just nice to see the Inquisitor squirm.

“Good! That’s all I want!” He told him very loudly, cheeks ablaze as he threw up his hands in frustration and stomped out.


End file.
